Turns out, I changed my mind after all. I decided the chapters I had thought about doing would be too repetitive compared to the other chapters I've done, so this is actually the last chapter of this series. I also am just really pressed for time these days. I had originally planned to release this chapter on the 20th, which is the day this chapter focuses on (the ten year mark), but my job has literally consumed my life and I just didn't have time. I did release three Jenny related gif sets on my tumblr page on the 20th, so at least I did something to commemorate the day (the link to my tumblr is on my ff profile for anyone interested).
I wrote most of this chapter before that wonderful season finale episode. That moment when Gibbs visited Shannon and Kelly's grave made me bawl my eyes out. He got all dressed up and everything, it was so sweet. It was weird to me that I was in the process of writing this chapter (which is a grave visit) when the show ended up doing one as well (meaning this chapter would occur just a few days before that moment in the finale). I guess I'm on a similar wavelength to the writers, haha. Anyways, I'll quit babbling, here we go!
Jethro Gibbs walked across the expansive lawns of Arlington National Cemetery, flowers in hand, passing grave after grave as he sought the spot he was looking for. He felt a little fidgety and nervous—graveyards didn't exactly hold any good memories for him.
He found the row he was looking for and walked down, faltering in his step a little as he got closer. He spotted the grave nestled among all the other similar looking ones, the lettering on it becoming much more clear as he approached. He stopped in front of it and took a breath, taking it in.
Jennifer Shepard
Director of NCIS
October 28, 1963 - May 20, 2008
It was simple and neat, like all the other small, white headstones in Arlington. The emblem of the Navy was carved at the bottom.
He stared at her name for what seemed like an eternity, feeling a little lost.
He bent down, ignoring the pang in his knee, and traced the letters of her name. He laid down the white orchids he was carrying, admiring the way that the pink color in the middle of them brought a little more color to the white headstone.
He looked around him cautiously, making sure no one was nearby or within earshot, and looked back at her grave. He cleared his throat, feeling a little foolish and not really knowing what to say.
"Hey, Jen," he said, surprised at the emotion he suddenly felt.
He paused, not really sure how to proceed. He rolled his eyes at himself when he realized how nervous he was feeling. It wasn't like Ducky didn't do this all the time—and in Ducky's case he was doing it with actual dead bodies, not a chunk of marble.
He sat down on his butt in front of the headstone, giving his knees a break, and glanced around again.
"I, uh..." he started, trailing off and cursing under his breath while he rubbed his neck.
He wondered why this was so hard.
"My, uh...well, my therapist," he broke off, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. "Yeah, that's right, my therapist," he admitted, imagining how Jenny would've reacted to him having a therapist. He could practically see the shock and amusement in her face, could practically imagine what she would say.
"The almighty Jethro Gibbs, believer in the therapy of silence, boats, and bourbon, has actually stooped to admitting he is human after all and obtained what he calls a 'head shrinker'? Do you actually talk, or is your therapist a fellow monosyllabic that can communicate solely with looks?"
He smiled at the thought.
"Her name is Grace," he continued. "Started seeing her after I got shot...that's a whole different story, but I told her I might visit, told her about you, and she told me to 'talk' to you."
He stared at the letters again, thinking about the last ten years.
"...'M sorry I haven't visited before," he said hoarsely.
He had a lot of old friends and colleagues buried in this cemetery, all in different areas, all another white marble dot among the hundreds of thousands of others.
The only reason he usually ever visited a graveyard willingly was when he went to visit his wife and daughter's grave in Stillwater—which was always an emotionally tiring and painful visit, so he only made that journey on special occasions.
He cleared his throat again, wincing at the slight pain in his knee and shifting his sitting position so he was a little more comfortable.
"You always teased me about bein' an old man, 'm definitely one now. Lot has changed over the years...I look around the office these days and realize just how old I am. Turned 60 a couple weeks ago, Jen," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm the old guy everyone is expectin' to retire soon. Hell, they were all expectin' me to when I had to have heart surgery three years ago."
He thought about it for a second, remembering those dark days. Like all the other times when an Agent died, Jenny had been on his mind. This agent was Ned Dorneget, and Jethro remembered swearing he could see Jenny, Mike, Kate, Pacci, and Cassidy all standing in the distance during Ned's body transportation. It hadn't been the first—nor the last—time that he had seemed to find himself hallucinating dead people from his past.
He had been shot just days after, and had honestly been surprised he had made it out alive. He was thinking he'd finally reached the end, thinking he'd be seeing all of his deceased loved ones, friends, and colleagues again.
And then months later, after his recovery, he'd had another setback, ending up in the damn hospital again (with Dr. Taft, Abby, Bishop, and Ducky all hovering over him).
Jeanne Benoit had popped up again, and he'd found himself feeling agitated over the memories of Grenouille and Jenny that he associated with her. It was when Jeanne was asking to join them on the flight to Sudan—when the combination of the stress of the case, having her around, and all the bad Grenouille memories on the surface of his mind—had caused him to blank out and feel out of breath, collapsing into his chair and struggling to breathe properly.
It turned out he had a little scar tissue built up where he had heart surgery that had been the cause.
Still, he was secretly convinced that the sudden painful thoughts of Jenny on top of everything else had been the trigger—not that he let Taft know about any of that.
He thought about how drastically his team had changed since then—how much it had changed within the last ten years.
"The whole team is different now. Ziva left, 'bout four or five years ago. Tony's gone now too."
He wondered if he should explain any of it at all, considering the whole thing was sort of a long and convoluted story and he really was just talking to himself. He looked around again, deciding he didn't have anywhere else to be since it was his Sunday off and shrugged to himself.
"Remember that slimy bastard from the CIA, Trent Kort? He targeted Ziva, supposedly took her out. We found out right after it happened that Ziva had a little girl who survived, girl named Tali, and found out DiNozzo was her dad."
He chuckled, shaking his head again.
"I always knew they had probably broken Rule Twelve...they always reminded me of you and me back in the day. Never thought they'd have a kid, though, didn't see that one coming at all. Then Tony decided to leave NCIS, focus on raising Tali instead. He took her to Paris—" he stopped abruptly, thoughts of Paris floating through his mind as he took a steadying breath.
"Turns out Paris was their place too, Jen. Guess they were even more like us than I thought."
He remembered how after he had found out about Ziva he had ended up visiting the 'Tribute to the Fallen' wall. Just like this graveyard, that tribute was an area he had tended to avoid ever since they put it up, because it held painful reminders.
He had accepted and moved on from a lot of those peoples deaths. But he had found himself staring at Jenny's picture the longest—because no matter how many years had passed, no matter how much he thought he had moved on, he still hadn't. Today marked ten entire years since her death, and he realized he'd probably never truly move on.
"Ducky's not really at NCIS anymore either. He comes occasionally and helps out, but Palmer is the main ME now. He's done a good job filling those big shoes of Ducky's. Abby jokes around that—"
He cut himself off again, feeling his throat constrict with emotion. He kept having little moments where he forgot that she was gone too, it still hadn't completely sunk in, and he gave himself a moment to steady his emotions.
"And Abs...she's gone too..." he said hoarsely. "Left almost three weeks ago. I keep forgettin'...got so used to havin' her around everyday. Worked together 'bout 17 years. 'M not used to her lab feeling so empty...lifeless. No music, no decorations, no Abby dancin' around...feels like some kind of sterile hospital room now or somethin'."
He gazed off into the distance, missing his favorite forensic scientist, missing the woman who had practically been like a daughter to him all these years.
"You know what she did, Jen?" He asked, looking at her grave pointedly. "She took a note out of your book and left me a damn letter. Never thought I'd have that one pulled on me again," he said, shaking his head in disbelief as he smiled.
"Kind of reminded me of your letter too...talked about not bein' able to face me 'cause she knew she wouldn't be able to leave if she did. Talked 'bout how much I mattered to her, and how she only wanted to hear one thing."
He broke off, feeling guilty that he hadn't been as expressive with Abby as he should have been all these years. He'd never been good at that with anyone, especially the woman whose grave he sat in front of right now.
"But," he said, pointing, "unlike what I did with you, I didn't let her get away with it. Learned my lesson the last time. The second I saw her outside my window I ran out after her, 'cause I knew I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't. Told her I loved her, gave her a kiss on the cheek, hugged her goodbye, let her cry on my shoulder a bit, and wished her well. Called her hours later to make sure she landed safely. She's doin' well, calls and checks in with me every couple of days, video chats with the team."
He smiled, simply happy that Abby was happy and experiencing new things. He was glad she was safe—but he couldn't deny he felt a little worried and paranoid about her safety now that she was no longer within elevator distance from him. He'd lost so many people in his life at this point that he didn't really have much faith in survival anymore.
He almost felt like he should thank Jenny for leaving him the way she did, because it was that experience that helped him to be smarter this time around and correct his previous mistakes.
He rubbed his hand across his chin, wishing he could hear Jenny's voice again, wishing he was actually telling all of this to her and not to her grave.
"Damn it Jen, I miss you," he admitted heavily. "Miss the way things used to be. When we were on a team with Decker and Burley, and we were all younger...alive. Miss the good times we had in Europe. I miss when you were Director—and Tony, Abs, and Ziver were still around and they'd all place bets on you an' me and gossip about us...Abby would joke around that we were the 'parents' of the team."
He grit his teeth and looked away from her grave, glaring at nothing in particular.
He looked back and pressed his thumb against part of the top of it, attempting to rub off a dry bird dropping stain, a memory popping into his head.
"Remember that time in Positano when we were walking and some bird in the sky ended up pooping on you?" He recalled with a chuckle, remembering how disgusted and freaked out Jenny had gotten.
He sat there for about twenty more minutes, remembering memories and enjoying the spring day.
He gingerly got back up, hating how old he felt, and gave her grave one last hard look.
"Thanks for listenin', Jen," he simply said, still feeling a bit awkward about talking to a chunk of marble, really just talking to himself.
He did feel better though, Dr. Confalone had been right that it would help—not that he'd ever admit it to her.
He turned around and began to walk away, stopping after a couple yards. He felt compelled to look behind him, wondering if maybe he'd accidentally left something, and turned to look behind him.
There she was, standing beside her grave.
Her long red hair blew a little in the gentle breeze, and she smiled at him, looking radiant and alive, her green eyes dancing with amusement.
He felt like he couldn't breathe properly as he looked at her, studying her features.
She winked at him and he smiled.
He knew he was probably just imagining it, possibly just hallucinating like he did with Mike, but he didn't care. This was a delusion he was happy to embrace for a moment if it meant just seeing her again.
He closed his eyes after a minute and when he opened them again she was gone. Not surprised he turned around again and began the walk back to his car, wondering what was up with his head.
He realized he didn't feel guilty for not moving on, and he decided he was perfectly fine with that. He'd always be able to reflect on the past memories he had enjoyed with her, and despite the pain that sometimes accompanied those reflections, he was simply glad that he'd even experienced them in the first place.
The fact that he was able to reflect on anything was just proof that it had all happened, and he wouldn't trade those memories for anything in the world.
"Until next time then, Jen," he muttered with a smile as he walked away.
The End
I am publishing this after working an 11 1/2 hour shift and running on less than 5 hours of sleep, so I hope it is all understandable and there are not too many mistakes with my final edit. Every time I have worked on this the past two weeks I'm always exhausted from work, so hopefully my stuff isn't completely nonsensical.
I know the ending may not have been what you expected or wanted—it was by far the most challenging chapter of them all for me to write. I've wanted to do a grave visit since I started this series though, so I hope it turned out okay.
Thank you so much to all of you who have stuck by this story the whole journey and have reviewed it. You are all very wonderful people and I am so grateful for your positive words.
More one-shots are on the way, and hopefully someday I'll have some time to write the long Jibbs fic that I've wanted to do for ages now.
Thanks again!